


home.

by fastforwardty



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: BY THE WAY i wrote this in 2016 and i write SO MUCH BETTER NOW thanks, M/M, TATINOF, That is all, The Amazing Tour Is Not on Fire, also this is me Projecting, and also me generally during closing when i do theatre, and dan should get on my level, bc dan's a big ol softie, bc ya girl mads is a whole theatre kid, both my post-tatinof soft hours, sentimental hoe, this is post-tatinof Soft Hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fastforwardty/pseuds/fastforwardty
Summary: (loosely based on “home” by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeroes; written in celebration/memorium of the amazing tour is not on fire)“the entire room was roaring.all for them.seven years had led up to this very moment.”





	home.

The entire room was roaring.  
All for them.  
Seven years had led up to this very moment.

He must be dreaming.  
This couldn't be real. Standing here, in this moment, right next to someone he once called his idol and now calls his best friend.  
Dan could faint. Maybe from the sheer awe of the moment he’s standing in, maybe from the way his cheeks are beginning to sting from the grin plastered on his face. He could feel his feet moving, he could feel his arms waving, but he was far away.  
The cheers and the smiles of the crowd all turned to static as his mind floated to the top of the balcony. From there he could look around and see the faces screaming for him. For them. He could look down and see even more faces. He could look ahead and see himself, waving and smiling and looking so unbelievably happy that he couldn’t even describe it.  
But of course, all moments must come to an end, and Dan soon found himself backstage, the air suddenly prickling his skin as an unknown hand removed his jacket. Perhaps he mumbled a thank you, but he felt so far away that he couldn’t remember.  
Seven years had led up to this very moment.

He’d done the same routine so many times before, and yet this time felt different. Unfamiliar. Everything was being absorbed, from the way the stage lights seeped their way into the backstage area to the very spot his feet were placed on the ground. Things he’d done so many times before, only to be done in this moment for the very last time.  
“We did it,” he heard a voice say.  
Dan’s mind fell back into himself at the words, knowing that only one person in the world could do that to him.  
“We really did it,” the voice said again.  
He looked over to see Phil, with that little grin on his face that only Dan sees, and the static ended. The juxtaposition was over, and Dan had returned to right here, right now.  
All Dan could muster was teary eyes and a grin in return. He felt Phil’s arms wrap tightly around him, giving Dan an opportunity to laugh a quiet sob into Phil’s neck as his arms found their way around Phil’s shoulders. Phil was warm in the soft way, the way that made Dan feel safe, the way that made Dan feel loved as his hand ran up and down Dan’s back.  
Seven years had led up to this very moment.

The florescent lights of the dressing room made Dan’s eyes hurt as he sat at the vanity. He was very aware of his own breathing, of the way his chest rose and fell, of the way his heart was still racing from the euphoria of performing on a stage to thousands of people. It was something he’d always dreamed of. Maybe not in this way, but this way was far better than any teenage fantasies could ever make themselves out to be.  
Phil had already changed, but Dan continued to watch himself in the mirror as the sweat ceased against his forehead and as his cheeks dimmed to their normal shade of pink.  
“Dan, love,” he felt a hand against his shoulder. “You’ve got to change. We can’t stay here forever.”  
Dan could see his torso in the mirror, but sometimes Dan had to stare directly at Phil to remind himself that he was really there. He turned to look at Phil, raising a hand on top of Phil’s where it still remained on his shoulder. Phil’s eyes were red and tired and yet still so bright and happy.  
“I can’t believe it’s finally over,” Dan spoke quietly, the first words he’d said since his final thank you to the audience nearly an hour ago. “Sure, we’ve had breaks in between, but now it’s over-over. Not just for-now-over.”  
“Yeah, it’s over-over,” Phil sniffed. Dan’s eyes drifted down to his and Phil’s hands. His thumb smoothed over Phil’s pale skin.  
“I’m gonna miss it,” Dan said, looking back up at Phil again.  
“We still have the books. We still have the photos and the films. We still have the memories to keep with us,” Phil consoled.  
“I guess that’s true, but I’ll miss making the memories.”  
Phil grinned. “Yeah, I’ll miss that, too.”  
Seven years had led up to this very moment.

The Stockholm air bit at Dan’s nose as other people kindly loaded their things into a taxi. No more tour bus.  
The set had already been dismantled for the last time, sent off to a cargo plane to be stowed away in some warehouse somewhere. They’d get to keep a few trinkets from the set, but they wouldn’t see those for a few more weeks. No more build and strike.  
Dan’s fingers were laced tightly with Phil’s; he hadn’t let go since he’d finished getting dressed, now that was nearly an hour ago, too. They stood on the pavement, cold and quiet and utterly exhausted.  
Once the taxi was loaded, Phil offered a polite thank you for all of the assistance and hard work while Dan nodded solemnly. He couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and sleep in his own bed. There had been talk of going to eat together after the show, or maybe even an afterparty, but there was a silent mutual agreement between Dan and Phil that going home was the best option. Phil, of course, apologized for that as well.  
Now the goodbyes were in order. Dan felt bad for being so quiet, but exhaustion never was a friend of his. He hugged the people outside weakly before climbing into the backseat of the cab, waving as Phil climbed in along after him and closed the door.  
Once the door closed, Dan immediately settled into Phil’s side and closed his eyes. The half hour cab ride to the airport was short, but all he wanted to do was sleep.  
Seven years had led up to this moment.

“You okay?” Phil mumbled.  
“Tired,” Dan’s voice was hard audible.  
“I know you’re homesick, but don’t worry, we’ll be home soon,” Phil reassured quietly, wrapping his arm around Dan’s side.  
Dan wanted to laugh. But he just smiled. He used to feel homesick all the time, always missing comfort and familiarity more than anything else in the world. But after all this time, after seven years of sharpies and cereal and socks and pure unadulterated happiness, he realized something.  
Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s a person.


End file.
